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Rhett scoffs. “Buddy my ass. Never trust a woman that can kill with a pencil. Just saying.”
Blake moves to the side of the picnic table, his eyes glued to me. I steel myself against looking up at him. Unbuttoning my jacket, I take off my shoulder holsters and lay them on the table with a light clink. From my belt, I unhook the black whip I carry, placing it next to my guns. On each pants leg, mid-thigh, I slide down two zippers, reaching in to un-strap the knife bands, and then kneel in front of Blake, pulling off the ankle holster with my last gun.
"That's one hell of an arsenal," he whispers as I rise in front of him.
I glance up, immediately regretting it as my stomach tightens.
His eyes are really pretty . . . like melted chocolate. Fuck, stop it, Lily. Look away.
"That arsenal will help keep you alive when shit hits the fan."
"Seems unnecessary considering he just said you can kill someone with a pencil. That’s kind of attractive though, in a sadistic sort of way."
I narrow my eyes as he lets a slow grin spread across his face.
I face Rhett, and he regards me with caution. He knows better than to underestim
ate me, spar or not. He does also know I don't need weapons to kill someone. That remark wasn’t a joke. Hand-to-hand sparring gives me the advantage.
Walking to the middle of the area, I turn to the side, moving my right foot back to take the weight and keep my balance.
He lunges toward me with a right hook aimed at my temple. I duck under his swing, bringing my right shin into his stomach. He staggers, but keeps himself upright. My leg throbs a little. Rhett's got abs that would make a lesbian drool.
I shuffle step to the side, my knees bent and fists in front of my face. Rhett takes a stance mimicking mine. Slowly, we circle the ground, our eyes locked on each other.
He charges, grabbing me around my waist. I dig my right heel into the dirt, lean forward, locking my arms around his midsection. I hold on tight as he pushes against me, until the slight rock of him adjusting his feet tilts us to the right. Before he can get his footing, I lift, hard, and twist my upper body, throwing him to the side. A small cloud of dust puffs from underneath him as he hits a dirt patch.
I glance over at Blake and the others. Jax is grinning like a schoolgirl, and Blake's eyes are as wide as saucers, watching every move.
"Had enough yet, Rhett?" I say, crouching down.
He staggers to his feet, and moves to straighten his upper torso. I take advantage of his slowness. Grabbing his right arm, I pull it out and sweep my right foot into his, kicking his feet out from under him. He lands hard on his back again, his wrist still tightly grasped in my hand.
I twist his arm, forcing him to roll onto his stomach. His wrist bent inward brings his arm up behind him. He groans through gritted teeth and I twist another half inch.
"Tap out, Rhett or I'm going to break your wrist."
"Damn it, Lily!" He slaps the ground three times.
I let go and stand back as he pushes onto his knees, smiling at me.
"I really hate you sometimes."
"I know," I say happily, throwing my braid over my shoulder.
"Mr. Mason, if you don't mind, could you join Lily?" Jax says loudly.
I whip around as he walks toward me, each step hesitant. Moving around him, I face Jax and the others.
"Dresden, Vlad, you're up. Lily, protect Mr. Mason."
Blake sucks in a sharp breath. I position myself between him and the guys. They stalk to one of the picnic tables
"Whatever you do, stay behind me."
"I know how to defend myself, Agent Williams," Blake says in agitation.
"I don't doubt it, but that isn't the point of this."
